Page 90 of A Royal Kiss & Tell
“Yes, why not?” Priscilla asked airily.
“But...his reputation?”
“Darling! If the gentleman is good enough to dine with Prince Albert, he’s certainly good enough forme.”
Caroline crouched down and petted one of the dogs to hide her smile. “But you haven’t any suppers planned, have you, darling?”
Priscilla lifted her chin. “Tom’s been very keen to have all the right people to dine since he’s taken his seat in Parliament. He has very big plans, you know.”
Oh, yes, Caroline and everyone else in Mayfair knew. His ambition was well-known. “What a clever man, your husband. The prince is precisely the sort of connection he’ll need, isn’t he?”
“Yes,” Priscilla said, as if she’d thought it all along. “Where is that girl?” She rang the bell again.
A young woman with dark brown hair hurried in. “Beg your pardon, mu’um,” she said with a slight accent.
“A stool, girl, and be quick. We haven’t all day,” Priscilla said.
The girl went out but reappeared a moment later with the stool and two dogs trotting behind her. She set the stool in front of Priscilla. But because of Priscilla’s ample figure, and the many dogs milling about, she couldn’t quite see the stool, and commanded the girl to give her a hand up. The girl lifted her hand so that Priscilla might take it, and when she did, Caroline’s eye was drawn to the linked hands—and a flash of forest green. It was scarcely even a patch of green at all, but there it was, on the cuff of the girl’s dark service gown.
Weslorian green.
Caroline stared at the girl who, relieved of her duties, had stepped back, her eyes downcast. What was it Priscilla had said? Something about foreign servants being better than English servants.Foreignservants. Weslorian servants. Did that mean... Was Tom... Caroline’s breath caught. She could hardly move as the possibilities began to crowd into her head.
“What do you think?” Priscilla asked.
“Pardon? Oh, it’s beautiful,” Caroline said. “It’s perfect for the Pennybacker ball.”
“The hem, darling.”
“Oh! Right.” Caroline sank down on her knees to have a look at the hem. She took a pin from the cushion on her wrist. “For your supper, I think you should wear the blue.”
“You think I should?” Priscilla asked.
It all made sense. Tom’s dear friend was Henry, the Duke of Norfolk. If Tom was using this girl, Caroline was determined to get her out. And the other one, at the Pennybackers’! Yes, of course! Lord Pennybacker and Tom were friends, too, and if Priscilla had a new foreign servant, Nancy would have insisted.
“No one looks as good as you in blue, Priscilla,” Caroline chirped as she put a few pins in the hem to mark where to take it up. “And do you know what else? I think you ought to have your supper after the Pennybacker ball next week, but before everyone begins to leave for the country. It will be a palate cleanser after that dreadful ball, won’t it? And you’d not want Nancy to escape to the north for the summer and not know until autumn that you had the prince to dine, would you?”
“Oh, I hardly care what Nancy Pennybacker thinks of anything,” Priscilla said, which was laughably untrue. “But if I were to have it next week, who else should I invite?” She began to rattle off names that she ought to invite while Caroline’s head spun. Somehow, she managed to chat along, agreeing that this person or that ought to be invited, when all she cared about was how to get news of this to Leopold.
“I’ll serve lamb,” Priscilla said, waving the girl over when Caroline had finished pinning the hem. “The butcher in Newgate has taken a liking to me.” She took the girl’s hand again, and Caroline leaned closer. There was no mistaking that Weslorian green.
She watched the girl go out with the stool.
“Caroline! Where are you?”
Caroline started and whirled around. Priscilla had presented her back to be unfastened out of the gown. Caroline was breathless.She’d found a Weslorian.“What about marzipan cakes?” she suggested.
How would they rescue this poor girl?They?Yes, of course, they! She and Leopold. He’d come to her for help and she was going to help him. She had to do it. For him, and for herself.
But the other thing suddenly beating in her chest was the knowledge that once Leopold had them all, he meant to leave.
He would be leaving very soon. Too soon.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The Pennybacker ball was held in Mayfair to much fanfare. At midnight, a light supper of ham and potatoes was served, as well as ices to keep the guests from sweltering.
The best of summer evening gowns made their appearance at the ball, the most desirable including the latest in French fashion of having elaborate bows cascading down the front of the dress.
